Since the Angels Started to Fall
by CharlotteRhia
Summary: Castiel hasn't stopped counting the days since the angels fell from Heaven. He searches for a way out from the guilt, but first finds himself stumbling upon the last people he has left that he hasn't killed yet. He struggles with life as a human and what he's realising he feels for the elder Winchester. Bad summary yay eventual Destiel, my version of what happens after 'Sacrifice'
1. In the Beginning (or the End)

**Set after Sacrifice, this is my take on what happens when Cas is dealing with being human and, of course, those hidden feelings for Dean.**

**Characters involved may change further along but right now is Cas, Dean, Sam and Kevin. Most likely Charlie will make an appearance.**

**Rating may change.**

**Will involve Destiel, lots and lots of Destiel. **

**This story begins at the end, so I'm basically giving out the biggest spoiler in the world. What comes next is the lead up, I think you get the picture.**

**Obviously, I'm not giving anything major away, so this is rather open for guessing.**

**Also, any trigger warnings will be posted at the start of a chapter!**

**Yup, think that's all.**

**Disclaimer: I really wish I owned Supernatural so that I could force the writers to make Destiel canon but we live in a cruel world. So I own nothing.**

* * *

**Introduction**

"Goodbye, Dean."

Cas took one last, long look at the man. And he was gone.


	2. The Grey Tarmac Road

**A/N: Chapter has been updated!**

* * *

It has been 1 week, 2 days and 12 hours since the angels started to fall.

Castiel leaned over the sink, his pale hands clutching the rusted and tarnished taps as he stared at into the grimy mirror. The face that stared back was almost unrecognizable, except for the brilliant blue eyes beneath the dark eyebrows.

His hair was matted and greasy; a wild tangle that looked like it could house live insects. There were puffy black circles beneath his eyes and his lips were cracked and dry. Coarse hairs were sprawling over his jawline, a scruffy and untamed mess.

He gingerly twisted one of the taps, unwilling to touch the strange green stuff that was forming over the metal. It gave a piercing squeak as a jet of water shot out of it. He splashed his face then scrubbed it hard with a towel, opening his eyes and hoping to see the old face he remembered looking back at him. At least some of the dirt has gone, he thought bitterly.

The smell of urine was growing unbearable, so he quickly left the gas-station restroom and set off. He walked without any real direction, his stomach growling with hunger almost consistently, even when he got a cheap sandwich from a seedy gas-station like this and chewed his way through the bland bread. He delved into the pocket of his trench coat, withdrawing a handful of coins and one scrunched up bit of paper. He had hardly enough for a proper meal, let alone a room at a motel.

He had no idea where he was, having crashed into a forest and stumbled blindly out onto a road, where he had stood for an entire night, before a man pulled over and offered to drive him to the nearest town. Castiel hadn't even bothered to listen for a name.

He stopped where he stood, causing a bit of a grumble as the woman behind him had to quickly halt to avoid bumping into him. She shot him an angry look as she went past, jabbering on her phone. He thought he saw her do a slight double take as she saw the dishevelled state he was in, but then she was gone. Another fleeting glimpse, as so much of humanity was.

The loud screech caught Castiel's attention. A bus had pulled up at the station a little way down the road. The screen over the front window read 'Kansas'.

Castiel didn't even think. He staggered onto the bus and fumbled for his money. "Is this enough to get to Kansas?" His voice was hoarse from thirst and disuse. The driver glanced at the feeble sum in Castiel's hand then he looked him over.

"Yes." The driver lied, taking the coins but pushing the note back to Castiel. He suspected it was all the man had left.

The bus was relatively empty, and Castiel chose a seat near the back, sitting beside the window. The backs of his thighs felt damp against the seat, and he shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to deal with this. He tried to inconspicuously tug at them, but the small space was rather restricting.

"You okay there, buddy?"

Castiel glanced round as he uncrossed his legs. A man a few rows behind him was watching him over his newspaper.

"Fine, thank you." Castiel cleared his throat as the words came out cracked and dry.

"You going to Kansas?" The man folded up his newspaper, looking at Castiel intently.

"Yes." Castiel was still not well-trained in social communication.

"Do you live there?" The man, Castiel observed, was middle-aged, with thinning hair, a shirt sporting the logo of a baseball team and a beer-belly. He didn't seem a threat, but Castiel eyed him warily.

"No, I'm –" He suddenly fell silent as he realised he didn't know what he was doing. Or, at least, why he was doing what he was doing. "…visiting friends." He concluded.

"You don't look too sure about that." The stranger got up, moving to sit in the seat across the aisle from Castiel.

"I am unsure whether my friends still live there."

The man went silent for a moment then smiled, showing yellowing teeth. "Well, at least you're not going for your lousy job!" He gave a loud, barking laugh. "I'm Phil, by the way." He held out a large hand. Castiel shook it briefly.

"I'm…Jimmy."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" His grin widened. He was in the business of unfurling his paper, doing the strange shake that humans did to get it straight, when Castiel interrupted him.

"May I borrow your newspaper?"

"Sure, here." Phil passed it to him. Castiel glanced at the front page. A large title read "Wish Upon a Star" with a picture of thousands of lights shooting across the sky. The report went on to describe how professionals were baffled at the number of shooting stars, but it seemed no one had unearthed the real reason. Castiel wanted news of his brothers and sisters. He wanted to know if they, too, had lost their grace.

"Funny story, that one." Phil said. Castiel tore his eyes away from the newspaper and tried to smooth out the frown on his face. "Shooting stars. Not just at night, though, that's the weird part. Well, one of the weird parts."

"Thank you." Castiel handed back the newspaper and turned away, peering out the window. The sky was a bright cerulean, but even as he looked, a blazing streak of light shot across it, disappearing over the horizon. He closed his eyes and said a silent word for his fallen brother or sister.

Castiel didn't even realise he was absolutely exhausted until he felt his consciousness slipping and he drifted off into a sleep disturbed by screams, blood and burning balls of light.

* * *

"Jimmy? Jimmy!" Something was heavy on his shoulder, shaking him.

Castiel blinked, lifting his head up and wincing at the stiffness in his neck. The bus was dark, illuminated by a few too-bright lights that warded off the suffocating ebony of night.

Phil's round face swam into view before his bleary eyes. "We're almost there, mate."

Castiel started. How long had he slept? "Kansas?"

"Where else?"

Castiel rubbed his brow, sitting upright and feeling his joints pop. He suddenly felt a wave of panic crash over him. Kansas had seemed so far away, the future not so daunting when he couldn't even see the finish line. But now the red tape was almost there, and what lay beyond was a sea of uncertainty.

As the bus slowed to a stop in Topeka, Kansas, Castiel got to his feet and gave a sudden lurch. His legs seemed to have seized up from sitting still so long. One began to feel strangely tingly. Then, a shooting pain rushed through his leg and it felt like it was prickling and burning at the same time. He had no idea why his body was doing this and he tried to move, but feeling more pain as the leg collided with the floor.

"What's wrong?" Phil interjected from beside him.

"My leg…sudden pain…" With Phil's help, he hobbled off the bus and they stood on the sidewalk. The pain was wearing off, leaving him with a leg that felt much like usual.

Phil chuckled. "Got pins and needles?"

"What?" Castiel's brow furrowed. He didn't think he was carrying any of those objects, but he checked his pockets. "No, I'm afraid I don't."

Phil guffawed, placing a hand on Castiel's shoulder to steady himself. "That was a good one!"

Staring perplexedly at the bizarre human, Castiel tried to extract himself from the arm that was pushing down on him.

"Ah, sorry, I expect you want to be going." Phil wiped his eyes, beaming.

Castiel nodded. "Could you point me in the direction of Lebanon?"

"Sorry, pal, I'm not from 'round here. Can't you look it up on your phone?"

"I don't have one."

Phil seemed to be realising that Castiel, or 'Jimmy', wasn't completely normal. And that was aside from the ragged appearance. He eyed him with a look of what seemed to be pity then took out his cellphone and tapped it a few times. Castiel watched him frown at the screen.

"Uh…you sure you planned your route right? It's just…Lebanon is about 200 miles from here."

Castiel's shoulders slumped. He had allowed a faint glimmer of hope to cross his mind, a hope that he would have somewhere to stay; somewhere with the only people he wanted to see. Three words crept onto the end of that thought – somewhere with Dean.

"You know what…I realise you hardly know me, but I can't leave you here. I can give you a lift, the company's given me a car, it's waiting for me at the office." Phil was speaking quite quickly and uncertainly, perhaps still not sure if he should offer this bedraggled stranger a ride.

"No, I can't accept that, I –"

"Just wait here, I'll get the car." And without waiting for an answer, Phil turned on his heel and left Castiel standing alone on the pavement.

The night air was hot and humid and Castiel felt his clothes sticking against his skin. He was growing weary, his legs starting to ache. He didn't understand this. He had stood at the side of a road all night once before, as he waited for Dean. He didn't allow that thought to continue. He was still avoiding all thoughts of that name.

Phil had been gone a long time. Castiel wondered if he had changed his mind and gone to his hotel room or wherever he was staying, ready to sleep off the long journey and push aside the thought that Castiel was stood here waiting. He was just an unkempt, probably quite smelly man who was of little consequence.

But then with a flood of light, a car rounded the corner and pulled up beside Castiel. It was a sleek vehicle, made for speed than durability. The door swung open and Phil leaned out. "Come on then, we haven't got all day."

Castiel slid into the passenger seat, the leather immediately gluing his sweaty body against it. Phil switched the radio on and it blared out a song Castiel had never heard, something with too loud a bass and not much of a tune.

As the car sped off down the road, Castiel's mind started to wander. His experience with cars was limited, but he disliked the way this car smelt so clean. The radio was blaring out the wrong music. The seats were too high and rigid. But what he disliked most was that the wrong person was sitting behind the steering wheel.

He could already feel the weight of sleep bearing upon him, but he felt it would be impolite to fall asleep when he was depriving Phil of that. Instead, he tried his best to maintain the small talk that Phil initiated and keep his eyelids up at the same time. Phil asked a lot of questions. About 'Jimmy's' family, his friends, his job, his house – Castiel could not answer truthfully, so he lied and hoped he only sounded so false because he was tired. Phil was particularly interested in the friends Castiel was going to meet.

"So what are their names?"

"Sean and…and Don." Castiel muttered, stifling a yawn.

"Good friends of yours?"

"Yes. They are like my family." A lump rose in Castiel's throat at that, but he did his best to ignore it.

"They live pretty far out."

"They like the seclusion."

"So, what, are they a couple?"

Castiel did a double take. "No, they're brothers."

"So, between you and me, which do you prefer?"

"I…I don't…" Castiel stuttered, bewildered as to how to answer. Phil simply chuckled and moved on to another question.

Phil also talked about himself a lot, about his wife and his two children. He was in the middle of retelling the story of his son's last baseball game when Castiel realised what was playing on the radio.

He didn't know the name of it, nor the singer, but he recognised it immediately. He'd heard it many times, blasting out of the radio of the Impala, and Castiel remembered the way Dean would smile as he sang along.

Phil stopped talking as he realised Castiel wasn't listening, and he saw the way his fingers tapped along in time to the music. "You like this song?"

"It reminds me of someone."

"What kind of someone?"

The corners of Castiel's mouth turned up into a tiny smile. "Someone with good taste in music."

Phil chuckled. "Does this girl know how you feel about her?"

Castiel's eyes widened. "It's…not like that."

"Really? Because buddy, you sure look like it."

Castiel swallowed and said nothing, setting his gaze firmly on the road ahead.

* * *

The sun slowly began to inch over the horizon and Castiel hoped there was not far to go, though his stomach churned at the imminent prospect.

"Nearly there." Phil remarked as they passed a road sign that stated it was 20 miles to Lebanon. Castiel nodded, more to himself than Phil.

Lebanon was not a very large town, tucked away in a remote part of America. Phil raised his eyebrows slightly as they drove into the centre, probably wondering what would inspire anyone to live here.

He pulled to a stop beside a small diner and turned to Castiel. "Will you be alright from here?"

"Yes, thank you very much." Castiel was certain this man had exceeded the phrase 'kindness of strangers'

"Don't mention it." He waved a podgy hand and grinned. "Hope you find your friends. And here, have this." He handed Castiel the newspaper. It was crumpled from being squashed in his pocket.

"Thank you, again. Safe journey." Castiel opened the door and made to get out.

"Bye, Jimmy. Or should I say…Castiel."

Castiel hit his head on the doorframe as he jumped. He sunk back into the seat. "What did you say?"

"I must say, you kept up the act well. But, really, Castiel, no need to lie to a brother." His grin widened.

Castiel's mouth hung open. "You're an angel?"

"Well, I guess we don't get to call ourselves that now." His smile faded slightly. "I was a cherub."

"Brother, there are no words –"

'Phil' held up a hand to stop him. "Castiel, I do not hate you. I do what I can now without my powers. I help others and try to bring love as I always have. I wish you all the best, Castiel."

Castiel could only nod and he slid out the car, watching his brother turn and drive away. He stood motionless, watching the empty road, a loneliness gnawing at his insides.

He slowly turned away, looking around. He knew the bunker was away from the town, but he had many directions to choose. He took the road closest and walked down the empty streets, feeling perspiration dewing on his neck.

The countless steps he took would have been nothing before. He would not have felt this gasping in his throat for water, nor the searing in his muscles at the exertion. He was sure he must have gone the wrong way when he saw, unbelievably, the deteriorating building and beside it, the small door that lead into the bunker of the Men-of-Letters. He staggered forwards, hardly daring to believe it true. After so many miles, so many hours, it was actually here.

And as he neared the door, every supressed thought spewed from his brain and seized his body up. They wouldn't let him in. He had betrayed them too many times. He was no longer their friend, their family. He was a stranger. A monster.

His hand didn't even look like his hand as it knocked against the door.

* * *

Dean lounged in a chair, watching Sam and Kevin hunched over their laptops and books as he drained the last few dregs of beer from his bottle. He set it down and got up, stretching. Then, he heard a strange, very quiet, tap.

He froze, mid-stretch. "Did you hear something?"

Kevin looked up. "No…"

"Hmm." Dean rolled his shoulders back into place and made to sit down when he heard it again. "Is one of you tapping?"

"Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam snapped, his eyes still on the computer.

"I heard a knocking sound…"

It came again, this time louder. Both Sam and Kevin heard it now. Kevin's eyebrows pulled together. "I think…someone's at the door."

Dean's hand slowly slid to his gun as he crept forward. He raised it as he neared the door, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened. He unlocked the door cautiously and pulled it open.

The gun clattered to the floor as his hand slackened. His face completely drained of colour. "Cas."

Dean could only stare at the man before him.

"You…" Dean croaked, swallowing hard. "You're…" He wasn't sure how to finish that. Alive? Really in need of a shower?

He looked into Cas' brilliant eyes in the way that he remembered from times that seemed years away. How he felt he couldn't look away, as if something was drawing him to those eyes.

"Dean." Cas' voice was hoarse and gravelly. Dean finally took in his appearance.

"Cas, you look awful, man."

"I realised."

"You…you better come in." He stepped aside to let Cas pass, trying to make enough room that their arms wouldn't brush.

* * *

Castiel followed Dean down the dimly lit corridors, noticing how the other man kept slightly ahead of him. He could feel the tension biting the air between them.

"Sam and Kevin are down there." He gestured down the corridor, turning and walking the other way.

"Kevin is here?"

"Yeah, he doesn't really have anywhere else." Dean cleared his throat. He had cleared his throat several times in the last few minutes, and Castiel was sure it wasn't necessary. "I…uh…I'm not sure if the room you had last time is ready."

"That's alright, Dean."

Dean nodded, stopping and turning to Castiel. "Look, Cas –"

"Dean, can we talk later? I feel…dirty."

Dean's throat clenched. "Yeah…sure, Cas."

He started walking, but kept beside Castiel. "This is my room." He said as they passed a door that was slightly ajar. "And this will be yours." A little further along the corridor was another door, this one closed. "This was just my bathroom, but I suppose we'll share. I…uh…I'll sort your room out while you wash. There should be a spare towel and robe in the cupboard."

Castiel smiled. It felt strange, he had not had reason to smile in a while. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean nodded, his eyes on Cas'. "Sure. Sure."

* * *

Castiel was almost undressed, except for his underwear. He hadn't seen his body before, not like this – when it was something that would scar and he had to protect. When it was him.

Castiel sensed the same smell he'd noticed on Dean in the air of the room. It was clean and quite orderly, not what he'd imagined of Dean. He slid off his boxers and stepped into the shower.

The sensation of the warm water running over him, washing away the dirt and sweat of the last days, was indescribable for him. He now understood why humans took so long to shower with the bliss this was. Such a simple thing, water running from a faucet, yet so essential to man.

He rinsed until he was sure he had no excuse any more to stay there and his fingers were wrinkly. He stepped out the shower, a cascade of water falling from him. He took the towel he'd laid out and dried off, feeling amazingly fresh. What was the human phrase? 'As good as new'.

* * *

Dean smoothed down a corner of the bed sheet he'd just laid absent-mindedly.

What are you doing? He thought to himself. Tell him to leave. It's been enough.

He sat down on the end of the bed, noticing that the mattress was considerably harder than his and wondered if he should try and find a better one. Why do things for him, after all he's done to you? There it was again, the voice. He could never get rid of it.

The door opened and Dean hastily looked up. Cas was wearing a dark blue robe and his hair was still slightly damp and tousled. Dean diverted his eyes, since Cas was not exactly dressed.

"You know, showers are an amazing invention." Cas seemed unconcerned by the fact that he was only wearing a robe.

Dean chuckled. "You would say that if you hadn't washed for…how long has it been? A week?"

"Just over." Cas walked over and sat beside Dean. Dean wasn't entirely sure how to act. This, Cas being human, was such new territory, he felt like he was in a mine field and had no idea where to step. And, after everything, he had no idea if he even knew who Cas was.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" Cas yawned as he spoke.

"I…" Dean felt like the words were being swallowed before he could say them. "What…what happened?"

But he got no answer. He turned and saw Cas lying fast asleep beside him. Smiling to himself, Dean got up, turned the light off and left Cas curled up in a bath robe at the foot of the bed.

* * *

Dean walked sluggishly down the small corridors, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. He could hear the TV blasting out what sounded like Star Wars from the living room and knew he had to make some explanation. Truth was he didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if Cas would still be there when he went back in the morning.

"Dean!" Kevin said, hearing his approach and turning the volume down slightly.

"Who was…" Sam's voice got quieter as he caught Dean's expression "at the door?" He finished lamely.

Dean jumped over the back of the sofa, kicking his heels onto the table in front of him and not answering. He pretended to be intrigued by 'The Phantom Menace' even though it was his least favourite – fucking Jar Jar Binks.

As the film ended and the credits began to roll, Dean felt the tension as the other two waited for an answer. Instead, he got to his feet and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Well, I'll be getting to bed."

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked.

Dean turned with what he hoped was a normal smile on his face. "Nothing, Sammy."

"Dean, we have a right to know if you're…" Kevin cast around for something to say. "Harbouring a murderer or something."

Dean's throat clenched and Kevin's eyes widened. "Oh my God, you are."

"No, it's…it's Cas." He waited for bomb he'd just dropped to detonate.

Sam was looking rather blank. Kevin's eyes had widened even more.

"What?!" Kevin exclaimed.

"How?!" Sam yelled over the top of him.

"Jeez, be quiet, you'll wake him up!" Dean sank back into his seat. "I haven't asked him how or why yet. He's sleeping."

"Dean…"

"I know, Sam. Just…wait till mornin', okay?"

"Fine."

After a long pause, Kevin piped up. "Hey, Dean, do you wanna watch Attack of the Clones?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothing beats the original trilogy." He grinned and left, his mind at least distracted for a bit thinking about Star Wars.

* * *

**A/N: So uh yeah that sucked but there's more to come, yays!**


	3. The Man, the Angel and the Wardrobe

**A/N: For anyone who read before, I updated the end of the last chapter!**

* * *

It has been 1 week, 4 days and 19 hours since the angels started to fall.

Castiel woke feeling unusually cold. He shifted and felt a draft over a good portion of his lower body. Confused, he sat up and the robe fell right off him. Strangely, his sudden state of undress made him feel embarrassed and he hastily pulled the robe back over him.

He was feeling rather groggy, and he wasn't entirely sure where he was. As he looked around, memories started to return and he realised how stiff his joints were and how dry his mouth was. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept. As he contemplated, the softness of the bed beneath him grew pronounced, and he felt his body falling back as he dropped into an uneasy slumber.

Dean had woken many hours before, and, as he stumbled into the bathroom, found what looked more like a rubbish pile than Cas' clothes, but he could just about recognise the crumpled trench coat. He had half a mind to toss them out, but he decided to leave it down to Cas.

He picked them up, stiff in his arms from the sweat that drenched them, and went to Cas' door. He knocked hesitantly, but he didn't expect an answer. He gave the door a small push then, when no complaint came, opened it fully and crept (as best he could, that was – he wasn't exactly petite) over to the armchair. He draped the clothes over the back then chanced a glance at the sleeping man. He regretted that. Cas' robe had come apart in the night, and Dean caught a glimpse of something he was sure wasn't a finger and he snapped his eyes away before he could confirm his suspicions.

"Alright, we're getting you some pyjamas." He muttered, not really to anyone in particular and left.

* * *

Sam was chewing rather half-heartedly at an undercooked slab of bacon. It had been Kevin's morning to make breakfast and it was safe to say the kid wasn't getting a job as a chef any time soon. Not that he would be getting a job as anything any time soon.

Kevin, to try and save face, had already finished his plate and quietly said "There's more in the pan." Sam didn't respond.

"Found anything interesting?" Kevin asked after a while.

"Aside from 'meteor showers' and trees shooting up everywhere? No, nothing."

Kevin scratched his head and went silent. He seemed on the verge of speaking several times, opening his mouth then slowly sliding it shut. Eventually, he said "Should I save Dean some breakfast?"

Sam knew what went unasked in that. "No, he probably won't be up for a while. And…neither will Cas."

Kevin nodded, glad Sam had been the first to bring Castiel up.

* * *

"You can't sleep all day, you know."

"That's exactly what I intend to do." Cas grunted into his pillow. He rolled over, away from the speaker.

"Come on, man, I made breakfast."

Castiel's stomach squirmed. "I'm not hungry."

"Seriously? When was the last time you ate?" Cas felt the bed dip as Dean sat beside him.

"I'm not counting."

"It's closer to dinner anyway, so why don't I make some burgers or something? I dunno what you like…"

Castiel flipped onto his back, his eyes on the ceiling. "I don't want to eat."

"Cas, you're not starving yourself. I'm serious, I'll shove it down your throat if I have to."

Cas turned his eyes on Dean and Dean looked back unfalteringly.

"Five more minutes." Cas grumbled, closing his eyes.

"Nope, you're getting up."

"You can't force me."

"God, you're like a moody teenager. Come on, the emo look doesn't suit you." Dean was trying to joke, but it was lost on Cas. It did, however, confuse him enough to open his eyes and distract him. "Alright, now come and eat, and don't even think of putting eyeliner on."

"Why would I –" But Dean just laughed and left. Cas frowned, getting to his feet. He saw his clothes hanging over the edge of the armchair and couldn't remember putting them there, but shrugged it off. He unfolded the shirt but recoiled as a strong stench wafted from it. He let it flop back over the chair and wondered how he'd get new clothes. He wondered a lot of things, and he was afraid of it.

* * *

Dean heard the knock on his door and the voice that croaked "Dean?". Dean quickly made for the door and pulled it open.

"Oh." Cas blinked then turned to leave. Dean looked startled then remembered he'd forgotten to put his jeans on - they were draped forlornly over his arm. He cleared his throat, sincerely hoping Sam wouldn't walk past his room to see Cas in a bath robe and Dean in a shirt and boxers.

"Uh…sorry. Bad timing." He cracked an awkward smile. "What's up, Cas?"

"I need new clothes." Cas stated.

"Right, er, we can go shopping today, if you want?" He felt odd saying that, like he was a teenage girl.

"Dean, I think the shops are closed."

Dean nodded slowly. "Alright, well, I have some clothes that'd probably fit you, though I doubt it's your style." Dean took a step back, unwilling to look away. Cas hesitated in the doorway. "I'm not your personal shopper, come and get it yourself."

Cas frowned to show his confusion and followed Dean, trying to keep his eyes on the other man's top half and very aware what this would look like were anyone to see.

Dean raised his hands in the direction of the closet but not completely gesturing towards them. Cas looked through the selection of shirts, which all seemed the same. Dean watched him, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. Cas turned to him and Dean realised he'd been staring intently at him. He shook himself slightly and smiled. "Cas, pick something."

Cas reached for a green shirt but Dean raised a hand to stop him. "Except that. It's…kind of my favourite." Cas raised an eyebrow but didn't object, reaching for the blue next to it. Dean noticed disconcertingly that it was the same blue as his eyes and dreaded to think how good it would look on the man.

Cas took a pair of boxers and some faded jeans. He held them awkwardly.

"What?" Dean asked. "Do you need help getting dressed or something?" He said it jokingly but then realised it may be true.

"No, I just…I don't want to dress in front of you."

"Uh…okay, Cas. Just go back to your room, then?"

Cas had a rather strange expression on his face, almost like disappointment, and left for his room.

* * *

Kevin and Sam were alone in the living room, Kevin popping off the lid of a beer which he'd been eyeing all evening, but hadn't been allowed to take with Dean there. He would snort whenever the man would refuse to let him drink. As if he really still counted as 'under-age' with all that had happened. Sam didn't mind, he barely thought of Kevin as a kid anymore.

"Did you notice anything weird this evening?" Sam asked after a pause.

Kevin shrugged. "The TV was a bit flicker-y."

"No, I mean…between Dean and Cas." It seemed to be a hard sentence for Sam to get out.

Kevin raised an eyebrow, leaning back and running his finger over the rim of the bottle. "I guess they seemed a little…tense."

"I don't think Dean moved throughout the entirety of the film."

Kevin considered it. Since there was only the couch and the armchair (and Sam had snagged the armchair) Kevin, Cas and Dean and been squashed together on the sofa. It had been an alright fit before Cas turned up, but now they were all pressed against each other. Kevin hadn't really minded. Cas didn't fidget, nor eat grossly or anything. But Dean had been rather still, as if he would be poisoned from touch.

Sam sighed. "I'm worried that Dean's still pissed at Cas, or something."

"Aren't you?"

"I dunno…after what he's been through, it's not really on my mind."

"After what he's been through? Sam, you almost died."

Sam flinched, then ran his hand through his hair. "I know."

"I know you say you're alright, but maybe let yourself have some of the sympathy."

"Kevin, I don't think you're one to talk. You have a lot you could beg for sympathy for."

Kevin grinned. "And we've just become a chick-flick."

"I feel like that's what my life has been reduced to now." Sam grinned.

* * *

**A/N: Destiel moments to come! I'm really enjoying the domestic story, I don't know why but the thought of this little family in the bunker that watches films and eats home-cooked food just seems so sweet! And yes, they should be manly, not sweet, but screw it!**


	4. Let the Right One In

It has been 1 week, 5 days and 3 hours since the angels started to fall.

Castiel lay in bed, Dean's pyjamas which he'd found lying on his bed feeling too oppressing on his skin. The more he tossed, the more he sweated, and the more the cloth stuck to him. The duvet also infuriated him. He tried having it pulled over his body, but that was far too hot. He pushed it down to the end of the bed, but he couldn't sleep with the chill that crept over him. The sheets felt too cool and unwelcoming, and no matter how much he shuffled, he couldn't sleep.

Cas slid off the bed. He pulled the damp top off his torso and stretched, marvelling at how the moving of your muscles actually felt nice. He stumbled to the door, knocking his hip into the corner of a chest of drawers as he went. It was a sudden, blinding pain and he let out a slight yelp. It soon wore off and he was embarrassed at his outburst. He pushed open the door, not entirely sure where he was going. He considered getting a drink. Maybe he could find a book.

As he made his way down the corridor, he heard a door opening.

"Cas? Is that you?"

Dean's voice was thick with sleep. Cas turned, not really able to make him out as more than a black silhouette in the darkness.

"Is it morning already?" He could hear Dean stepping out into the corridor.

"No, I couldn't sleep."

"I heard something…was that you?"

"I knocked into the dresser."

"Oh…" Dean seemed to be waking up a bit.

"Sorry for waking you."

"No, s'alright…why can't you sleep?"

"The bed was uncomfortable."

Dean went silent for a few seconds, then, very quietly, said "There's room in mine."

Castiel wasn't sure why he did it, but he quickly stepped towards Dean and followed him into his room. Dean turned on a lamp and they both winced at the brightness. "Do you, uh, have a side?"

"A what?" Cas frowned.

"A side of the bed."

"This is your bed, I don't own any part of it."

Dean chuckled. "Alright, well, I sleep in the middle."

"Okay." Cas wasn't sure why he was being told this. Dean sat down at the edge of the bed, and he looked over at Cas. Cas noticed his eyes strayed on his bare torso.

"Is it about the angels? Are you having bad dreams?"

Castiel didn't answer straight away. He sat not-quite next to Dean. "I don't want to talk about it, Dean."

"Cas, sometimes we can only sort things out if we talk about them."

"There's nothing to sort out. I'm tired, Dean." Cas hated the feeling that squirmed in his stomach as he knew he was lying to Dean.

"Okay, Cas. Good night."

The light went out. Cas felt the bed depress as Dean lay down. Castiel sat staring at his hands for a while, then shuffled back and lay beside him. He wondered if Dean was still awake and if he thought this was too close. He shifted sideways slightly, away from him. Closing his eyes, he thought how much nicer this felt. Even the duvet, pulled up over his shoulders, didn't bother him. And the bed didn't feel cold.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes groggily. He felt he hadn't slept long enough, but something had woken him up. He stretched out and froze. His leg brushed against something soft and he suddenly noticed the arms curled around him. What scared him most was that he liked it. And his body liked it too. He felt the hardness in the region below his stomach. He knew exactly who that was pressed up behind him and he had no idea how he was supposed to respond to this.

He knew it was too early to be awake. He closed his eyes to fall asleep, but not before laying his hand over the one on his chest.

* * *

_Castiel's body slumped forward. He felt the blood trickling, warm and thick, down his back. "Please, stop…" He gasped._

_"I don't think so." He had no idea who the voice was. But before he could think, he was writhing in agony._

_He saw another feather flutter onto the bloody heap at his feet. He was being flayed and torn in two as his wings were ripped from his body._

_"Without your wings, you're just a human. A mortal. Castiel."_

_Castiel could see only red. It burned in his eyelids. He thrashed and screamed, his skin shredding apart._

_"Castiel."_

_"Cas."_

"Cas!"

Cas's eyes were flying open and he was looking up into a pair of bright green ones.

"Cas, what the hell happened?"

"My wings. They took my wings."

Dean's mouth hung slightly open and he was breathing heavily, staring down at the fallen angel. "Do you know where you are, Cas?"

Cas nodded. "I'm in the bunker."

"Do you know…what you are?"

Cas paused, then nodded again. "I'm a human."

Dean sighed and Cas felt his breath tickle his face. "You had a nightmare, Cas. But no one's going to hurt you here." Dean had been leaning over him and he lowered himself to lie on his side, looking at Castiel.

Cas realised how close he was and he blinked rather rapidly. He thought he should know what comes next, but his mind seemed blank. He was so close that he could see every individual freckle on Dean's nose.

There was a loud hammering on the door. Dean almost physically jumped, quickly shuffling back and getting off the bed. Cas rolled onto his back, not entirely sure what had just happened. "Dean?" A voice called from out in the corridor.

"What, Sam?"

"Do you know where Cas is, he's not in his room?"

Dean glanced over at Cas, who was watching him inquisitively. "Probably in the library."

"Alright, thanks. I made breakfast, by the way."

"Great." Dean replied unenthusiastically. He waited for the sound of footsteps then turned back to Cas.

Castiel sat up. "Why did you lie?"

Dean shrugged, not quite meeting his eye.

"He'll only come back when he doesn't find me."

Dean exhaled heavily, walking back over to the bed and sitting at the edge. "Sorry, Cas. You just…scared me this morning."

"Why?"

Dean brushed his hand over his face. Of course Cas wouldn't notice anything weird about it. "Your nightmare, y'know?"

"Oh." Cas absent-mindedly ran his hand over his back. The skin there felt bruised. He slowly got to his feet. "I'll see you at breakfast, Dean." And he left the room.

Dean looked after him, a shirt hanging limply from his hand. He was pretty sure their entire relationship had just been drastically altered.

* * *

Sam turned down the corridor, frowning. He was sure Cas wasn't a master of hide and seek, but he'd looked everywhere. He knew what the possibility was, but he didn't want to think of it. Cas seemed like he was here to stay. Sam was heading for Dean's room, wondering what he should tell his brother, when he saw a door open and Castiel himself walk out. Sam almost exclaimed with relief then he realised that it was the door to Dean's room. And that Cas wasn't wearing a shirt. Before he could be seen, Sam retreated back to the kitchen where Kevin sat waiting.

"I think we've solved our mystery." Sam said, not sure what tone it was that his voice came out in.

Kevin lay down his book, rather startled. "What?"

"I found Cas. Walking out of Dean's room."

Kevin's eyebrows travelled up his forehead. "He might have just been going in to ask something."

Sam actually grinned. "He was wearing pyjama bottoms and no top."

Kevin's mouth fell open into a round O.

* * *

That night, after almost painfully trying to avoid Cas that day, Dean was sitting on his bed. He kept thinking of how Cas had been writhing in what looked like agony. He didn't want to imagine the horror of his nightmares.

It was for this reason, or so he told himself, that knocked on Cas's door and asked him if he wanted to sleep in his bed tonight. And, for some reason, Cas agreed.

* * *

**A/N: Fuck yeah, bit of Destiel action! And I'm sorry, but I just love a bit of fluff! **


	5. Bored of the Rings

It has been 1 week, 6 days and 8 hours since the angels started to fall.

Cas felt himself stir as consciousness washed over him. He stretched out, feeling himself melt into the soft mattress. He flung his arms to the side to pop the muscles and he thought vaguely that he probably shouldn't have been able to reach so far with no obstruction. Grudgingly, he opened his eyes and rubbed away the sleep crusted in them.

He was sprawled out over the large bed, and he was alone. Cas had soon remembered where he was, but that didn't answer his mystery. "Dean?" His voice was croaky and his throat quite dry, but he made enough noise. There was no reply. Cas looked over and saw Dean's outline imprinted on the memory foam.

Cas hauled his legs off the bed, pulled on the blue shirt and didn't bother to change out his sweats. Out in the hall, he heard sounds of a tap running from the bathroom. He knocked on the door. "Dean?"

But there was no answer.

* * *

Sam was grinning in spite of himself as he munched on a granola bar. Kevin sidled into the kitchen, looking bedraggled as if he'd been taken out of bed against his will. Kevin stifled a yawn and said thickly "It's kind of creepy to smile when you're alone."

"Sorry. I'm just happy for Dean."

Kevin gave a small laugh. "Yeah, it's about time."

"Do you think we should…congratulate them?"

"I don't think Hallmark do cards saying 'Congratulations for finally jumping the guy you've been ogling for five years."

Sam grimaced. "I don't want to think about that bit."

"Just be glad the walls are thick."

At that moment, Cas came wandering in. He looked slightly confused. Sam straightened in his chair, trying to seem natural and hope the angel hadn't heard them. "Morning, Cas."

"Hello, Sam."

"Dean not awake yet?" Kevin had a sly grin and Sam kicked him under the table.

Cas tilted his head in confusion. "How would I know?"

Sam and Kevin exchanged a quick look then Sam hastily got to his feet. "Want some coffee, Cas?"

"Yes, thank you, Sam."

Kevin cleared his throat and made some excuse to leave. Before he was out the door, Sam called "Kevin." The kid turned back, looking resigned. Sam handed him a plate wordlessly and nodded. Kevin glared at him and took it. Castiel watched the exchanged with polite indifference.

Sam jabbed the button on the coffee maker. What had his brother done now?

* * *

Dean sauntered into the library sometime at mid-day. Sam was hunched over a book and Cas was scrawling on a paper. They both looked up as he approached and Dean immediately sensed an unwarm welcome. Sam was trying his best not to glare, resulting in a famous bitch-face, and Cas went slightly red and looked away.

"Nice to see you both, too." Dean scraped a chair back and Sam gritted his teeth. He picked up the nearest book and pretended to be interested.

What he was interested in was sitting somewhere to the right of him. He cast several futile glances over the pages at Cas, who was writing rather jerkily.

Sam intercepted these looks and sighed inwardly at his brother.

He was beginning to weigh up an idea.

* * *

The strange family of 4 gathered in the living room after a good meal of Dean's 'homemade' burgers. Sam was observing how his brother was smiling easily and perhaps his Plan B would not be needed. Kevin had DVD choice and put on the Two Towers.

When it came to seating arrangements, however, Dean quickly grabbed the armchair. Sam gave Cas a half-smile as they squished together on the sofa.

It was a long film, and Sam found the tension in the room too distracting to listen. Sam got up, muttering about drinks, and gave Kevin a significant look. The kid followed him out.

"What?" Kevin asked, craning his neck to watch the film.

"I think we need an intervention."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like Charlie Bradbury."

* * *

"What do you think, Cas?" Dean asked, tracing the rim of his beer bottle.

"Hmm?" Cas seemed to pull out of a reverie. Dean raised the remote and paused the film.

"Not into Lord of the Rings?"

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"About what?"

"Aragorn and Arwen. She would live hundreds of his lives, yet she chooses him over possibly her own happiness. She shall see him die, and she would do so if it meant she could be with him for a short time. I believe this is what humans call 'true love'."

Dean's eyes were wide and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Uh…it's just a film, Cas."

Castiel looked at him and their eyes locked. "You are right, Dean." He smiled. "It's just a film."

Dean blinked as Cas got to his feet and left. His eyebrows pulled together and he sat back, wondering what the hell the angel had just told him…or _not_ told him.

* * *

It was Charlie's general experience that once you knew the Winchesters, you weren't ever going to live a normal life. Fortunately, her life had never been exactly normal – just with less leviathans and demons. And knowing the Winchesters seemed to lead to strange phone calls in the middle of the night.

"What?" She demanded, seeing Sam's caller ID.

"Hey, Charlie."

"Sam, it's," Charlie rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock "2.30 am."

"Sorry, Charlie."

"Yeah, okay, what's up?"

"I think we have a problem with Dean and Castiel."

Charlie couldn't stop the smile spreading over her face. "Wait, do you mean Dean and Castiel or _Dean and Castiel?"_

"Uh…"

"Do you mean they're together?"

"That's sort of the problem. I don't think either of them realises how they feel…and as much as I'd love to not have to hear them…doing the do…I want my brother to be happy."

"Well, why not just talk to Dean?"

"Because I think Dean's screwed up and shunned Cas away. And…if Cas leaves…I don't know what will happen to Dean."

Charlie sighed. "Alright, I hear you, I'll be there in a few days."

"I hope they can last that long."

* * *

Castiel hesitated as he padded down the corridor, his hand reaching out to Dean's door. But he stopped, knowing that he wouldn't be made the same offer as last night. He moved on, going into his own room, which felt oddly cold and slightly damp. He kicked off his slippers and curled up in the sheets, hoping to recreate the warmth. As he was drifting off, he heard the slam of a door through the wall. He wondered where Dean had been.

He wondered if Dean would even look at him in the morning.

* * *

Dean hurled the beer can at the bin. It missed, bouncing off the wall and ricocheting across the floor. He didn't even care about the drops of liquid that poured over the carpet. He probably would when he woke up. The cheap beer had left an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth, and it hadn't taken his mind off things that all begun with C and ended with astiel.

Why did he have to do it? Despite the cuddling, things probably wouldn't have been so awkward – he would have at least been able to be in the same room as Cas without cringing.

* * *

Castiel absent-mindedly reached up and scratched his neck, exactly where Dean's lips had been.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Hopefully stuff should start happening soon, sorry for the slow build! Also, sorry for slow updates, school just started back up!**


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